Logan McRae Crime Series Books 4-6: Flesh House, Blind Eye, Dark Blood. Stuart MacBride

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СКАЧАТЬ …’ Logan got the nasty feeling he was about to win his bet.

      He watched the door swing shut, and then Rennie elbowed him in the ribs.

      ‘Ow, what was that—’

      ‘Aren’t you going to do something?’

      ‘Are you crazy? He’d kill me.’

      ‘But you’re supposed to be—’

      ‘Fine! OK, I’ll go.’ Logan hauled himself to his feet and out the door, muttering under his breath the whole way.

      There was no sign of Insch in the corridor outside, but Logan could hear the stairwell doors battering back and forth on their hinges. He broke into a jog as raised voices echoed down from the floor above.

      Insch: ‘You’re being ridiculous, we—’

      Steel: ‘God’s sake, I’m just saying, OK? He could still be in there!’

      Logan took the stairs two at a time.

      Insch: ‘If we tear the place apart, he’ll know. This discussion is over – we’re not going in … Will you get that bloody camera out of my face!’

      Alec: ‘I’m just doing my job … hey … where are—’

      Logan pushed through the stairwell doors just in time to see Steel march into the gents’ toilet, shouting, ‘Don’t you walk away from me! We’re not finished.’

      Logan hurried in after her.

      The toilets were a depressing shade of green: three walls painted a nasty institutional spearmint; the fourth – where the long, trough urinal was – done in the same speckled green terrazzo as the floor. But unlike the floor, years of police officers’ piddle had bleached white streaks into the surface, looking disturbingly like dried milk. Or sperm.

      Steel stood by the line of cubicles, arms outstretched, preventing DI Insch from disappearing inside. ‘No – we are going to talk about this like adults!’

      ‘Get out of my bloody way.’

      Alec shifted to get a better angle and Insch turned on him: ‘WHAT DID I BLOODY TELL YOU?’

      ‘I’m just—’

      Insch stuck a hand against Alec’s chest and shoved – sending the cameraman clattering back into the urinal trough.

      ‘Aaaah! Fucking hell—’

      Steel stared. ‘Have you gone mental?’

      Snarl. ‘GET OUT!’

      ‘You can’t just—

      ‘Jesus … I’m covered in piss!’

      Insch turned, grabbed Steel by the lapel and shoved her back against a cubicle door. ‘Listen up and listen good, you foul-smelling—’

      Logan stepped forwards. ‘Excuse me, sir!’

      ‘I’m busy. Sergeant.’

      ‘The Assistant Chief Constable wants to see you in his office.’

      ‘Tell him I’ll be there in a—’

      ‘Get your fat hands off me!’

      ‘He did say it was urgent, sir.’

      Silence.

      ‘Fine.’ The inspector stepped back and let go of Steel. ‘I’m finished here anyway.’

      She straightened her jacket. ‘You ever grab me like that again and you will be – I’ll tear your fucking balls off!’

      Alec was back on his feet, face a picture of disgust as he shook one foot and then the other, sending little droplets flying onto the grubby, green floor. ‘Fucking piss everywhere! I was only trying to do my job!’

      He picked up his camera and wiped it on his sleeve. ‘You any idea how much these bloody things cost? I’m making an official complaint, you can’t treat me like I’m some sort of—’

      ‘Oh, God …’ Logan saw the punch coming long before anyone else: Insch curled one huge hand into a fist and swung.

      Alec didn’t stand a chance. So Logan lunged forwards, shoving him out of the way. The cameraman went sprawling, right back into the urinal again – and that was when Logan realized he’d not thought this through properly.

      Insch’s fist whistled through the gap where Alec used to be and clattered into Logan’s face.

       15

      Everything smelt of burning copper. Logan sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair with his head thrown back and a clump of soggy paper towels clamped to his nose.

      ‘Still bleeding?’ Chief Inspector Napier – head of Professional Standards – was probably doing his best to sound concerned, but it wasn’t working. Hook-nosed ginger bastard.

      His office was crowded and noisy. Big Gary – huge, uniformed and covered in biscuit crumbs – sat in the corner, next to Napier’s colleague, taking notes while Steel and Insch lied about what had happened in the toilets. Everyone doing their best not to get too close to Alec, who was starting to smell.

      Logan pulled the compress away and dabbed at his nostrils with a finger. It came away covered in blood. He tipped his head back again and applied a fresh wodge of paper towels.

      ‘As I see it,’ said Napier, treating them all to his fish-like gaze, ‘no one is denying DI Insch hit DS McRae in the toilets. Correct?’

      No one said anything.

      ‘I see …’ Napier picked up a silver pen from his neat-freak desk and pointed it at Alec, as if it were a magic wand and by some miracle of prestidigitation he could make the cameraman not stink of piss. ‘And did you manage to film this “assault”?’

      Alec looked at Insch and Steel, then blushed and stared at the carpet instead. ‘My … my camera wasn’t working because it fell in the urinal … when I … tripped.’

      ‘Really?’ The chief inspector pulled a notebook from his drawer and read aloud. ‘He attacked me – he shoved me into the urinal. He tried to—’

      Alec went even redder. ‘I was wrong. I slipped and fell.’

      ‘You slipped and fell.’

      ‘I slipped and fell.’

      ‘I see …’ Napier put the notebook back in the drawer. ‘And this sudden change of opinion wouldn’t have anything to do with being threatened by DI Insch?’

      The inspector lumbered to his feet. ‘Are you suggesting I tampered with СКАЧАТЬ